Page 115 of Collateral Damage

“Mrs Moore would not move, even after my father threatened to take her life, she pleaded for him to listen and he did not. He ignored her and he fired. Straight into her heart.” I clutch my arms, looking at my lawyer for support, meeting her comforting gaze as she rubs my arm delicately.

“Is this what Miss Moore informed you?”

“Yes, your honour,”

“She saw everything. She died in her arms. And my father lied to get out of jail time, where he ran with me. To Indiana.”Only now is everything making so much sense. The day she told me it was still so chaotic, I was so angry that it was all a blur, I never sat and processed it properly but thinking about it now, he did run. He seemed frightened for a while. Nervous, constantly checking over his shoulder. Paranoid, until he met my stepmom.

“Were you at all aware of your Fathers involvement in this?” Part of me wishes I had known but it would never have changed anything. And he would probably have lied to me too, so I guess not knowing at all was better than living through his deception and suffering for it.

“No your honour. Not until I was informed by Miss Moore.” Her name is bitter in my mouth, hard to say, hard to swallow, tasting like liquor you want to sink in but it burns the back of your throat as you indulge in it. All I want to do is wrap my arms around her but I glance down at my hands and for a moment my skin is tainted strawberry red, her redemption smothering me, bleeding out on the matted carpet, imbedded with her soul as I shake my head to release me of my hallucination.

“And because of this you believe it was justified? Even though it was your father and your mother?”

Is it wrong of me for saying yes? My mother not so much. But if I was never in the picture, I guess her death makes sense. She was alsocollateral damagemy father caused. It was inevitable.

She was fuelled with vengeance; she lived off it. It’s what kept her heart beating when she wanted to give up. The love she had for her mother ran so deeply she would kill for her and she did. The way she did it for me. The way I feel she would do for anyone she loved. But where do we draw the line when we are robbed of everything we have?When is it truly acceptable to take a life?

“I believe it was justified. But it was not ok. She was failed by the system, your honour. But she did everything she could in the time that we had to try and make things right.” I squeeze my nails into my flesh, trying to keep myself grounded but all I canpicture is her skin against my fingers as I listen to my favourite song, singing from her chest. She was finally letting me in.We were finally getting somewhere.

“Please elaborate.”

I look up at him, feeling sweat smothering my lower back and I don’t know why I am so nervous to tell her story when her trauma isn’t exactly new, it was just overlooked and forgotten, so I suck in a deeply shaken inhale and stand straight.

“Hayden was abused by her father for years, beaten and tortured,silenced. Not only her but her mother also. And so, she took his life to protect their own and was thrown behind bars for six years, charged with involuntary murder because she had no voice in the courtroom to defend her side. Becausemy fatherkilled her only family. In a room full of people who preach the safety of women and children. People who were meant to be there for her and her mother and listen to her words when she explained why she took a life. Yet my father walked free because he claimed self defence, wearing a badge? What part of that is justified? Because he was a cop he got privileges? No one ever took Hayden’s allegations against her father seriously after his death.” I can feel anger spilling from the tip of my tongue, my words heated and swollen with bottled up hatred as I suck my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

“You have to understand it was her words against your fathers.” He exclaims, and I shake my head in disappointment, hoping he would realise what stupidity just came out of his mouth.

“What does that tell you, your honour? Power has priority. My father lied through his teeth whilst Hayden rotted in a cell for six years. Tell me, would you settle for that? Will you silence me now because I have no one to speak for me? If my father told the truth would the consequences be reversed? Would my father pay for the death of Mrs Moore? Would he be plasteredall over the news and called a monster? Or would that ruin their reputation?” I ask, waiting for a response I know will never satisfy me as I hold my chin up high, proud that I’ve left him, dare I say speechless and there is not a peep from my audience.

…

“We understand this all must be difficult for you-” he speaks slyly, trying to change the subject but it’s too late for that now, I’ve found my feet. My Voice.I can smell justice.

“Please do not belittle me. She took the lives of monsters as horrid and as ruthless as her father. Cases turned cold by CPD, cases that could be protecting children like her. She was doing what you could not do. Is that a villain? Or a hero, your honour?” I glare at him before turning to face the room of strangers, totally taken by my words. Their jaws are hanging low, gawking at me in disbelief and I feel prideful.“Our system claims to be heroes, to keep us safe, to save lives but they didn’t save hers or her mothers. Yet they were both punished. She stood in front of me to try and save me from making the same mistake her mother did. She blamed herself every day for not intervening and stopping it where she could. She was never going to hurt me. She was trying to save my life before the CPD opened fire on me. The people of this city, sworn to protect us.Is that a monster? Or a saviour, your honour?”

“Objection your honour! She aided in the death of a man that was stated in her journal!” he spits, and I can almost see his hackles up as he stares me down, feeling almost pitiful that he is this naive to his cause.

“A man that was going to rape me your honour.Again, she was saving my life. I never aided in her behaviour, she had let me walk free that day but if she hadn't stepped in, I would most likely not be here today. And it would not have been by her hand. Where do we draw the line? Where is death acceptable? Becausefrom where I'm standing, murder is only acceptable in the eyes of the law. So they can reap the reward of being a hero when really, some are monsters walking amongst us and don’t deserve their badge.” I exhale my trapped anxiety, feeling a little lighter now that I’ve got that off my chest, and faces are beginning to change.Understanding. Sympathy.Whatever I’m doing seems to be working.

“Do you believe her sins were redeemable?”

Eight months ago, I would have said no. Out of hurt and spite. But I had the same urges to kill when she took my life from right under my feet. I wanted to make her pay, make her bleed. Hell, I thought about all the gruesome ways I could take her life. And then I realised, it’s natural to feel like the only solution to your pain is to eradicate it. But who's to say it works? Will it make you feel better? Will it bring them back?No. But for that single moment, even only for a little, vengeance can take a form so hungry for blood you’ll do anything to get rid of that hole in your chest. Even if it means taking someone else's life.

“I do your honour.”

“Objection! How do we know any of this is the truth?”

I roll my eyes heavily, like a loose cannon before the judge leaves me speechless.

“Because she has no reason to lie, and everything she speaks she’s documented inside this journal.”

My lip parts, letting out a gentle breath as a tiny smile tugs at my lip, feeling my dimples form in my cheeks.“Correct your honour.”

“Do you believe she had changed?”

The lump in the back of my throat grows, struggling to form words as I recall the last night we spent together. Knowing that the woman I was looking at was not Hayden anymore. It wasHayley. She was in there somewhere; I just had to find her andbring her back to me. She got so close, so fucking close until this fucking storm pulled her under.

“I do. She was just broken and needed to see that life was not as mean as it had treated her. All she knew was pain and suffering, your honour.”

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